


Scorched Wing Prints

by Gleeleaf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depressing, Destiel - Freeform, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt, Implied Destiel?, Loss, One Shot, Original Character Death(s), Supportive Sam, sorta - Freeform, when angels die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9157228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleeleaf/pseuds/Gleeleaf
Summary: This would have taken place shortly after Castiel regains his own Grace (in 10x18).What would have happened?What would've happened if the angels had not let Castiel go, and, essentially, forgiven him for abandoning them the way he did when he was made to chose between them and Dean Winchester?  What would have happened if they'd been vengeful about it, and smart enough to know exactly how they could lure out and trap their wayward brother in order to exact their justice on him for leaving?IMPORTANT: This is super depressing, I'm sorry.  I was not in a good place, and a super sad one shot came out of it.  It seriously just happened and I really didn't want it to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE ANYONE ATTACKS ME!!!
> 
> YES I SPELLED IT AS "Cass." No. NO - _NO_ \- I do NOT agree that that is how it should be spelled. It should be _one "s"_ DAMMIT! It makes the most sense grammatically, from the full name to the abbreviation and all that... Why the fuck would you abbreviate "Castiel" with "Cass" instead of "Cas""??? But canonically (according to script writers and actual cast and crew and shit) it is spelled Cass, and whether or not I agree with it is really not going to change the fact, so fuck it.
> 
> Someone (probably that idiot Dean who dropped out of high school and doesn't give a fuck about your grammatical rules) decided to start writing it as "Cass" and there you have it.
> 
> Also, yes, I went back in time quite a bit from the present events (being 2017 with other exciting shit happening in the real show) ... But apparently this scenario decided it needed to be played out, and it didn't care where we actually were in the story line.
> 
> So please just roll with it, being my first fic, an just enjoy it if you do, or ignore it if you don't...?

Sam, Dean, and Cass had been tracking a small pack of werewolves for going on a week now. So, as they entered the dilapidated barn where all the evidence had led them, an attack from werewolves would have been expected.

But not an attack from angels.

To say that they were unprepared for the full on battle that erupted upon them was an understatement. There had never been any werewolves. It had all been a set up. A trap...

A trap for Castiel. The angel of Thursday. The wayward soldier who had rebelled, fallen, forsaken heaven's plan to side with humanity, become a god to win a civil war in heaven, slaughtered so many of his brothers and sisters, been part of the spell that had expelled them all from heaven, lived on Grace stolen from other angels, and had ultimately abandoned them all when they needed his leadership the most, choosing humans over his own kind...

The ambush was brutal, and it had almost not been a fight at all. The Winchesters' guns were loaded with silver bullets, perfectly prepared for the werewolves they thought they were hunting. But only Cass had his angel blade.

Sam and Dean were flung unceremoniously aside. Cass was swarmed by the five angels present, metal ringing sharply over and over as he struggled to hold them back, thrusts and parries flying almost too fast for the human hunters' eyes to track.

The Winchesters gathered themselves, Dean shaking his head roughly to try and regain his senses. Then the two of them leapt in together upon some unspoken agreement, tackling the limbs of just one angel in tandem, barely holding their own until they were able to disarm their opponent and stab deep into his chest with his own blade. 

The angel's eyes flashed in wide surprise as the hunters shoved him back off of the sharp metal. He crumpled to the ground as light poured from him, and Sam and Dean were forced to shield their eyes in the crooks of their elbows when he died, the scorched shadows of his wings etching into the barn floor with flickering embers.

They heard a scream behind them and turned automatically to see, and then they were just quick enough to shield their eyes a second time as another angel fell at the end of Castiel's blade.

 _Two down,_ thought Dean, the Mark on his arm giving a hungry twinge against the blood that trickled down his skin. _Three more to go._

Sam threw him a look and Dean nodded, and in a heartbeat they were flinging themselves at another angel, Sam slashing with the newly acquired blade.

Dean was barely able to catch a glimpse of his best friend through the whirling bodies of the two angels still exchanging blows with their fallen brother. Cass looked panicked, a streak of blood streaming down his face from a cut near his hairline, which glowed white from his newly restored (if mostly deteriorated) Grace.

He and Sam were not fairing particularly well against their own opponent. As much as they had faced angels in the past, Dean often forgot just how formidable they were ... so much so that a hoard of demons was often known to run in terror from just _one_ of Heaven's warriors.

Cass had become more and more human the longer he'd spent with the Winchesters, and now Dean realized it had caused him to begin taking the power of angels for granted.

 _Of course,_ he thought with the twinge of a wry smile at the corner of his lips. _If I weren't hopped up on this cursed Mark, I'd probably be even more out-stacked and fucked than I am right now._ He dodged another swing at his noggin and landed a blow to the gut that, shockingly, actually seemed to make the angel lose his breath for a second.

And then he saw Sam's fist collide with the Angel's other side, and he saw the barest of flinches from their opponent while he heard Sam's knuckles crunch loudly. He briefly wondered at the fact that Sam was also actually handling this not ... badly ... considering he was human and all that ... and then he excused it with another wry smile and a thought: _Because my little bro's a fuckin' badass on steroids ..._

He threw another punch and caught the angel sonofabitch in the dip of its neck just below its jaw. The heavenspawn turned to glare Dean to death in all of its righteous ire.

Just then, Sam got in a lucky slice across the angel's ribs, and as the angel hissed in pain and turned to strike out at Sam, Sam shouted, "Dean!" and tossed the angel blade behind the angel's back to his brother's waiting hand.

Dean caught it deftly and buried it into the angel's side, up through the rib cage to pierce the heart. As the angel's Grace died, the Mark on his arm felt like it was purring ... Evilly pleased and sated like a sadistic feline. Dean pushed it to the back of his head, as he always tried to do.

Another flash of light. Another pair of scorched wing marks, these ones flung across a stack of hay barrels, which smoked ominously, but luckily did not catch fire (Maybe due to the torrential April rains leaking through the aging timber of the barn, adding a little too much moisture for easy fire fodder).

Now there were only the two left who were fighting Cass.

Scratch that. One was fighting Cass, the other had turned back towards Sam and Dean ...

A heavy blow to Sam's head had him seeing black spots, and stars on their edges, and he felt his knees crack against the cold, hard barn floor.

Dean turned, angel blade held up, but at a lazy gesture of the angel's hand, he was flying across the barn and into a hard wooden beam. His breath was forced from his lungs at the impact and he felt a crunch in his back that was definitely not pleasant, before he crumpled to the floor.

Then the angel was standing over him, reaching out a hand to smite him into oblivion. The demonic influence of the Mark on his soul made his stomach clench and recoil a little at the angelic presence.

Too late, he registered that he had lost the angel blade.

"Dean!" he heard Cass shout, and his eyes caught the flash of silver flying toward him - Cass's own blade. He snatched it from the air and shoved it hard into the chest of the angel leaning over him.

Everything else happened so quickly then, while Dean's eyes were screwed shut against the flash of the angel dying before him.

He heard Castiel gasp in shock and pain, heard Sam yell, " _CASS!_ " heard their last angelic foe release a scream ...

Dean opened his eyes cautiously to see Sam standing behind Cass's attacker, holding the angel blade that Dean had dropped, thrust deep in their remaining opponent's back. Sam withdrew it suddenly, and the angel crumpled and died in another flash of light. Sam grimaced as the tops of the angel's wing-marks caught him across his lower shins.

Belatedly, Dean saw Cass, swaying on his feet in front of Sam, clutching tightly at his gut. In the chaos, Dean had hardly registered that the angel that had been embedded on Sam's blade had been holding its own blade, dripping in blood ...

... Castiel's blood ... 

Their friend was looking down in confusion at his own hand, appearing lost and failing to understand the dripping red blood and white Grace that seeped from his midsection as his fingers tightened desperately and uselessly against the flesh. Between Castiel's fingers ran alarming rivulets of blood. But even more alarming, Dean saw, with a twist of his stomach, was the bright Grace leaking out from his best friend's stomach. Too much Grace.

"No no no no no..." he heard his voice saying distantly as he launched himself across the room to catch Cass as he swayed, and Dean pulled the fallen angel against him, into his lap.

Sam was kneeling down in front of them and reaching for Cass's shoulder and for the Grace-and-blood-gushing-wound ... And _damn_ that haunted look in his little brother's eyes - _just god fucking damn it!_ ... No! Cass was going to be fine! Cass was _always_ fine!

"Cass!" he shouted, hand against the angel's jaw, turning his friend's face to his. Cass's bright blue eyes were bleary, unfocused. "Cass!" he shouted again, very gently tapping at the falling angel's cheek. "Come on, man! Come on! CASS!?"

Finally, at the sound of that familiar voice, Castiel zeroed in on him with apparent effort, his eyes squinting. He saw Dean's worried face above his own, and was able to concentrate a little more effectively. He could feel his Grace leaving him. Could feel the darkness settling over his eyes.

He knew he wasn't going to last much longer. And then there would be a flash of light ... and ... his wings - _his wings!_ He frowned suddenly and tried weakly to push Dean away.

"Cass, buddy, no," said Dean in a somewhat broken voice. "You're okay. You're gonna be okay."

"No, Dean," his voice came out even gruffer than usual, harsh and breathless. "You have to ... you have to go ..."

He looked down to find his own hand was covered by both of Sam's hands, and one of Dean's, as they all tried to put pressure to his wound. It almost made him smile. It may have been the first time in his billions of years of existence that he truly felt _cared for_ ... But it didn't matter ... No physical pressure could contain his Grace.

He forced himself to catch Sam's gaze and focus. The younger Winchester's eyes were filled with un-shed tears, and his jaw was twitching with barely contained emotion. So Sam knew, then ... knew that it was of no use.

"Sam," Cass whispered hoarsely.

Sam's face twitched in an agonized grimace as he heard the confirmation in Castiel's voice. His friend wasn't going to make it. The tears began to fall and he tried valiantly to restrain the trembling in his expression, to be strong for Cass. To be strong for Dean.

Castiel reflected, briefly, on how the "Boy with the Demon Blood" was arguably the most compassionate, loving, and selfless person he had ever met.

"No!" Dean shouted, shaking Cass a little. "Cass, hang on, man! Just hang on!"

Cass lolled his head back to return Dean's gaze for a moment, and there was so much raw depths of emotion in those eyes as he gazed up at the hunter that Dean was stunned into silence. 

Dean felt his own body begin to tremble, felt his own tears (which he hadn't even noticed welling into his eyes) now scalding small tracks down his face. "No ..." he whispered brokenly.

Cass was staring at him like he was the world. He knew that look. Cass _always_ looked at him like that. There was a faint almost-smile on Castiel's lips that told Dean that he regretted nothing. That Dean _was_ his world, and he would _always_ be his world.

And Dean also knew that that look, in this moment, meant goodbye.

"Nooo...." he growled lowly, unable to keep his body from trembling hard and desperate against his friend as he clutched at the angel's shoulders.

Cass turned to the younger hunter again. "Sam," he whispered, pleading. "You have to get him ... away from here ... away from me ..."

"Cass..." Sam's voice was soft, hurting, pleading ... and he was shaking his head, not understanding. Dean was shaking his head too, more vehemently, a resounding negative, clinging desperately to his angel.

"My wings ..." croaked Castiel, and Sam frowned in pain - the kind of pain that was not physical. Still feeling the burning twinge across his shins from the scorched wings of the angel he had slain, he understood Cass's request. He bit back the sob that tried to tear from his throat and he nodded to the angel ... more tears streaking his face.

He rose shakily and began to pry his brother off their dying friend.

"No, Sam!" Dean shouted, shaking, sobbing, "NO! Cass! CASS!! _CASS!!!_ "

The angel was pushing weakly at Dean's chest and his little brother was untangling his arms from around Cass's body. He struggled and clamped onto the angel - _his_ angel - with all the desperation he could muster. He shouted for Cass over and over, shouted at Sam to leave him, shouted that he wouldn't leave Cass, that he _couldn't_ ... but somehow Sam was stronger than him.

Soon, Sam had his arms locked behind his neck, and Castiel was sliding limply to the ground. Dean was being dragged back across the barn floor, sobbing and struggling against his little brother, trying to return to his angel.

Cass's eyes never left Dean's, and they were so full of ... of something, that Dean felt his heart would burst.

Cass watched the brothers' ungainly retreat, Sam dragging Dean, literally kicking and screaming. His heart swelled at the sight of them both. He had never felt this much, even towards his brothers and sisters in heaven, when he had been part of the Host.

"Just a little further, Sam," Cass whispered in a fractured voice, even though he was fairly certain the brothers were too far now to hear him, especially over Dean's shouts. He continued to gaze deeply into his hunter's eyes as he felt his life draining from him. Seeing the hunters - his family - crying for him ... seeing Dean struggle to be with him until the last possible moment, it was all so bittersweet. Castiel tried his best to focus on the sweet and not the bitter.

A small smile twitched at the angel's lips. "Goodbye, Dean," he whispered.

There was a flash of light, and the broken, twisted, feather-bare outline of Castiel's once-powerful wings was branded deeply into his surroundings.

It was all Sam could do to cling onto the convulsing form of his big brother, pulling Dean tightly to his chest and feeling him scream out his anguish into Sam's muffling arm. Sam's own tears were falling on Dean's head now, but he tried his best to be strong ... to soothe his brother.

Their angel was gone.


End file.
